TASTY VIRTUAL TOUR~MY HIGHLAND LOVER~MAEVE GREYSON



My Highland Lover
Highland Hearts # 1
By: Maeve Greyson
Releasing March 24th, 2015
Loveswept


ABOUT THE BOOK 

Maeve Greyson unleashes a thrilling tale of magic and desire as a feisty Southern gal falls into the arms of a rough-hewn Highland chieftain.

As the proprietor of a homeopathic store in rural Kentucky, Trulie Sinclair knows that her neighbors think she’s strange—but they have no idea how strange she really is. Trulie was born in Scotland in the thirteenth century to a line of time-traveling Highlanders. When Trulie’s grandmother convinces her to return to their homeland, Trulie jumps back in time, right onto the powerful chest of Gray MacKenna. Just as his steely good looks send ripples through her body, their fierce attraction will send ripples through the ages.

After his parents murdered, Gray is consumed by thoughts of revenge. As the new chieftain of the MacKenna clan, he has reason to believe that there’s a traitor in his midst, and nothing—not even the bonny lass who suddenly drops from the sky—can distract him from his single-minded pursuit of the culprit. But when Gray learns that this sassy beauty possesses gifts beyond the sparkle in her eye, he allows his gaze, and his heart, to linger. While he hunts for the murderer, Gray finds in Trulie a precious companion—and a timeless love.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

No one has the power to shatter your dreams unless you give it to them. That’s been Maeve Greyson’s mantra since she was a girl. When she’s not at the full time day job at the steel mill, Maeve’s writing romances about sexy Highlanders and the women who tame them. Tucked away in a five acre wood, Maeve listens to the wind singing through the trees and hears her characters telling their stories. Her work is proofed by her sharp-eyed dog, Jasper, and her greatest supporter is her long suffering husband of over thirty-five years who’s learned not to throw away any odd sticky notes filled with strange phrases.






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EXCERPT

Kentucky—Twenty-first Century

And there he was–so heart-stoppingly close her headlights lit up his face. The bare-chested man raised a tensed arm against the glare. In one fluid motion, he crouched low and unsheathed the biggest sword Trulie Sinclair had ever seen.

“Holy crap!” Trulie jerked the steering wheel hard to the left.

His teeth bared in a defensive snarl, the man sprang sideways. With predatory grace, he swung the massive broadsword in a lethal arc through his wake.

Trulie braced for impact. Instinct and adrenaline locked both knees as she stomped the brake pedal to the floor. She sawed the steering wheel back and forth, slinging mud and gravel through the night. The old truck fishtailed, bounced through twin ruts in the narrow road, then sloshed to a stop in a shallow, water-filled ditch.

Trulie clutched the steering wheel in a stranglehold until her knuckles ached. Where in blue blazes had that guy come from? And that sword? The high-pitched yowl of an irritated cat paired with a hissed “Dammit” drowned out the jackhammer thump of blood pounding in Trulie’s ears.

Granny and Kismet.

“Are you all right?” Trulie flipped on the interior light, clawed the seatbelt out of the way, and scooted toward the tiny, gray-haired woman clutching the spitting black cat against her chest.

“You know . . .” Granny blinked a few times, then peeped over the rims of her cockeyed spectacles. 

One sparse silver brow ratcheted a notch higher as she resettled back in the dip of the worn seat and straightened her glasses on her nose. “You know, Trulie,” she repeated, pausing again to smooth a blue-veined hand down the insulted feline’s puffed-up hackles. “If ye wouldna drive like a bat out of hell, ye might dodge things a lot easier.”

Trulie deflated with a relieved breath. Thank goodness. If Granny could still deliver a smart-ass 
remark, then Granny was okay. Of course, slipping into her seldom-heard Scottish brogue was a telltale sign that the wild ride hadn’t been enjoyed. Granny only reverted to the lilting roll of her r’s under duress.

Trulie squirmed around in the confines of the truck and peered out the back window. Her frazzled reflection stared back at her from the dark glass. Dammit. She twisted back around and flipped off the interior light then turned back to the window.


Nothing moved but the silhouettes of treetops swaying against a star-spattered sky. The sparsely graveled road reflected silvery gray as it snaked beneath the moonlight. No sword-brandishing human mountain was anywhere to be seen. “That guy came out of nowhere. Did you see that freaking sword?” And the package of testosterone swinging it?




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